


Pandora

by Rucksack (wingblade)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingblade/pseuds/Rucksack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra doesn't know how Ven charmed his way into his heart; doesn't know how he snuck his way into his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pandora

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fluff and friendly banter, really. "Pandora" by Madina Lake is what inspired this; it's probably one of my favorite Terra/Ven songs for the chorus. This isn't exactly how I wanted to express the song, but I'm always writing such sad things so I went along with it, anyways!

"It's like dancing," Aqua says. "It'll come to you. Then you won't forget." Ven's always been a great student; his dedication is insurmountable. But sometimes his feet don't move the way he wants them to. And today, I have the audacity to laugh. I don't mean it in a bad way — when have I ever? — but he's so sensitive, and I should know better.

I laugh because he is perfection embodied. He's not big like me — slower, but sure — and he's not as talented as Aqua is with magic. He's something else entirely, and when he makes mistakes, it just makes me love him even more. I laugh because, in my mind, the only alternative would be to kiss him. And right here, out on the training ground, with Aqua as our witness — I don't think he'd appreciate it much. So I bite my lip and soak in the sad look in his eyes. When we’re done for the day, I clap him on the shoulder. His shirt is wet and sticky; clinging to his skin. He’s worked so hard today and now I feel even worse.

Ven doesn’t ignore me at dinner, but he tries to. He smiles too much for him to stay mad at me very long. Whenever I rest my elbow on the table, he knows it as my signal for initiating conversation, so he stuffs food in his mouth every time he feels the surface dip beneath my weight. Sometimes it’s a buttered roll, which is probably his best defense, and he knows it. Whenever he runs out, he’ll ask Aqua to pass the small, woven basket that holds the bread. He’ll grab a handful for his plate, while looking at me the entire time, chomping away on his food. He’s smiling as much as he can around a mouthful of food.

I begin: “So, Ven…” He tears off a piece of bread and pops it in his mouth, peering up at me innocently. “How are you enjoying your rolls?” Recognizing the challenge, he shoves the rest of the bread in his mouth, making his cheeks puff out.

Aqua knows something is up — oh, something is definitely up. She lets us work out our differences via food, though. I think it’s more amusing for her this way.

There’s always the time — and it comes every night we do this — where the basket turns up empty. Someone might think this would be when Ven gives up, be he is determined. The next tools he utilizes are his peas and carrots. Ven hates peas and carrots — Aqua and I never bring it up because this is the only way he’ll eat his vegetables.

Eventually, everything is gone. I’m left sipping my cider coolly as he frantically searches for his next scapegoat.

“Aqua!” Ven shouts.

“Oh, no,” Aqua says, gathering up her dishes. “I saw the way you demolished your food. I want no part in this war.” This is her way of saying “have fun, guys,” which I love her for.

Before he can even realize he’ll be alone in facing me tonight, I’ve swept our dishes into the sink and am leading him down the hall to my room. I choose mine because he’s more honest there; he doesn’t exactly lie, but he can withhold the whole truth at times. Plus, he loves the stars so much he’ll forget or downright refuse to close the curtains in his room.

Once I’ve closed the door, he pushes at my chest, motioning me to lie down on the bed. He hops on top of me and breathes into my neck: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have no reason to be sorry,” I say, kissing him and combing my fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You had every right to. I’m so clumsy —”

I pull him in closer by his hips, kissing his neck, and he exhales sharply. “You’re fine. I love you.” Massaging his hips — and slowly lifting his shirt in the process — I kiss up his neck, then along his jaw. I run my hand up and down his newly-exposed stomach until I finally move a little lower. He groans quietly into my lips and I cup his cheek, pulling him far enough away from me to be able to see his face.

“Keep your eyes open, please?” I request, and he nods. His eyes water as I touch him; it’s so difficult for him to keep his sounds in. Sometimes it’s hard to just let yourself go. I smile up at him understandingly and whisper his name: “Ven.” He moves with me now — faster, panting. Brushing back his bangs to kiss his sweaty forehead, I lie back to watch his eyes.

So expressive; brilliant blue. His lips part to moan my name, just begging to be kissed.

“Terra. Terra…”

As his high cools down, he clutches at my shirt and lies his head on my chest. I kiss the top of his head over and over — hard — and breathe in how perfect I feel. He’s still panting, but quieter now. I run one hand along his side, careful not to tickle.

“Have you ever regretted anything, Terra?” he asks after a while, and it occurs to me in a wave of insecurity that he could be talking about me. About us.

“Maybe,” I answer, then I reassure both him and myself: “But not now. I haven’t… in a long time, I don’t think. Do… Have you?”

“Not really. But in another way…” He pauses. “I regret not being enough. Not strong enough or fast enough or good enough. I feel like I’m not learning enough. I have the best teachers in the world, but I’m so slow, Terra. I’m so slow…”

This startles me. Ven — insecure? How do I tell him he’s perfect? How do I tell him he’s right where he belongs — here in my arms? That he does his best, and along with being himself, this is enough for me? I hold him tighter, carefully picking over my words. Throwing out another “I love you” seems cheap; another scapegoat.

“Ven —”

“What if you or Aqua really need me someday?” He’s on a roll now. “And I fail? What if I… disappoint you?”

“You’ve never disappointed us, Ven. Not me, not Aqua, not our master —”

“That’s a lie!” Turning in my arms to face me, I see the tears collecting in his eyes. “I could never do… what you do.”

“We’re not asking you to. Just be yourself, Ven. We all have different strengths and skills. You’ll be fine; I promise. You’ll be a Keyblade Master in no time.”

“You must think I’m an idiot…” He looks down, frowning. “How could someone like you love me?”

The thought that’s been on my mind all day passes my lips before I can think: “Because you’re perfect.” He looks up at me with those bright eyes, full of admiration. He doesn’t ask me to clarify, and I can see he doesn’t quite believe me, but he loves me for it. This is enough for him. I kiss him again, bringing him down against my lips gently. Without a single protest, I hold him through the night and for a large portion of the morning. He tosses and turns and mumbles in his sleep, but still, I don’t relinquish my grip. I wake up hours before he does and I watch him until both our stomachs are growling, yearning for breakfast.

There are no rolls this time. He has cereal and a glass of chocolate milk — not nearly enough, in mine and Aqua’s opinion, seeing as he works so hard and is still growing. Aqua and I take turns enticing him with hash browns, scrambled eggs, and an omelette stuffed to the brim with cheese. He grabs two slices of toast and dips them in his cereal; an attempt to appease us. It doesn’t work.

“I can’t!” he exclaims. “I’m saving room for dessert. I missed it last night.”

“Dessert?” Aqua laughs.

I ask, “And what would you like for dessert?”

Ven beams before replying, “A chocolate milkshake! With whipped cream.” Then he looks right at me and adds, just to be difficult: “And rainbow sprinkles.” He knows we’re almost out of sprinkles, and Aqua and I tear the kitchen apart for ten minutes looking for them. Finally Aqua shouts “aha!” and tosses me her spoils before turning back to the fridge to procure the milk and ice cream. As the blender whirs to life, I look over at Ven — happy, smiling, beautiful Ven. I wish he could see himself through his eyes.

Before he can dig into his drink, I pull it away and take a long, long sip. He has a fraction of a second to send me the most envious glare he can muster before I crush my lips onto his. This time, I use my tongue — something I had refrained from the night before — and he turns to rubber in my hands.

“Is it good?” He licks his lips and nods. He finishes it in no time and I say, “That’s good… because you’re stuck with the dishes tonight!” I slap his shoulder, nearly causing his milkshake to spurt from his nose, then leap out of my chair. Aqua’s already at the door, laughing.

“You snooze, you lose!” she shouts, cupping her hand to her mouth.

“Terra! That’s not fair!”

“Well, of course not, Ven! They wouldn’t be called ‘dishes,’ otherwise.” Aqua and I both slow down so he can catch up to us. Ven wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles into my back.

“Do I really have to do the dishes tonight?”

After sharing a look, Aqua smiles at me. “Maybe you’ll have some help.”

I touch one of the hands wrapped around my stomach, holding it against me. “Yeah. You’ll always have us, Ven.”


End file.
